


Living with You...

by arpita



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa, महाभारत | Mahabharat (TV 2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Devil Wears Prada, Devil Wears Prada References, F/M, Love, and duryo is mostly nate, being workaholics, kind of, where Bhanumati is a version of Anne Hathaway in the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arpita/pseuds/arpita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>1. This is a work of fiction and is not to be considered to denigrate any sentiments.<br/>2. Comments, criticism, and evaluations are all welcome.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Happy Birthday baby! I hope you like it! Godbless</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> 1\. This is a work of fiction and is not to be considered to denigrate any sentiments.  
> 2\. Comments, criticism, and evaluations are all welcome.  
>   
>   
>   
> Happy Birthday baby! I hope you like it! Godbless

"Yes ma'am, I've mailed the artwork over to Yajna ma'am for a review. I'll keep tabs on everything that she would send me for feedback." Bhanumati was saying.  


"This might just be the lifetime opportunity everyone dies for." came the voice on the other side of the phone.  


'Yes, of course ma'am, I understand that completely. We've been working nights.' came the prompt reply to the stern statement.  


'Sometimes even _that_ doesn't suffice, Miss Dutta.'  


Bhanumati bit her lip, _People, and their impressions,_ she exasperatedly expressed herself in an inaudible huff.  


'Miss Dutta?' the voice repeated, the cold, steely edge in its tone as real as it was when she faced her in person.

  


'Yes, yes, ma'am, I'm listening.' she replied, hoping her senior hadn't noticed the sudden start in her voice.  


'Just listening won't suffice, Miss Dutta. Your work needs to reflect that too!'  


The beeping on the other side told her two things, one, never expect appreciation from your seniors, and two, _never_ expect, someone like Satyavati Matsya to appreciate you for being prompt and ready days before the deadline ended.  


Bhanumati _Phew _ed a little while ruffling her hair, and casting a long drawn glance at her bed, which was a collage of pendrives, floppies, artwork, pencil, and colour shades, and her laptop.__  


_Aesthetic!,_ she thought to herself before, reaching out for her laptop. She hated being messy, especially with all these. She looked at the clock.  


' _Eight fifty!-_ ' she couldn't believe herself, '- _Wow! Meaning I get to watch 'Supernatural'_ '.  


She hurried herself. It was the first time in months that she had finished so early. Duryodhan was probably at the club, with his bevy of rowdies, shouting like banshees over the India-Australia semi-final, meaning he wouldn't be home till the match was over, at least. She would call him if it got too late.

  
  
  


***  
  
  
  


Within, ten minutes, her room was squeaking clean with everything in place. And, she was cuddled with the remote in front of the television in the drawing room. She couldn't believe that she would get to watch Dean killing monsters, (with Sam, of course!), within five minutes. Her mind did a virtual somersault when 'The Voice' ended, and that flash showing 'THEN' came with Jensen Ackles' brooding face materialising like a dream, with occasional flashes of Mark Sheppard, and, Jared Padalecki. She thanked God that her boyfriend was away to the club, or otherwise, she had to deal with his occasional taunts of Dean being a 'firangi bhootbhagaoo' amongst other things.  


She didn't notice when the latch unlocked, but, it was the howl that she couldn't choose not noticing.  
  
  


'BHAAAAAAAI!!!!!' Duryodhan burst in, followed by Ashwatthama, Karan, and Yudhishthir, 'Match night's on ME!'  


Bhanumati turned a little, to look at the slew of crisps that they were staggering underneath, and did not bother hiding her disgust at the bunch of beer bottles Ashwatthama was proudly holding.  


Duryodhan, profanely flumped into the couch beside Bhanumati, and snatched the remote from her hands, if she didn't bother being disgusted, he didn't bother to look at her face scrunched up.  


'BHAI! WHERE ARE THE PLATES?!' Ashwatthama screeched from the kitchen.  


'WHY CAN'T YOU ALL GO SOMEWHERE ELSE? WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED TO THE CLUB?!' Bhanumati found herself screaming at the top of her voice, amidst all the ruckus that had already started rumbling, with Yudhisthir, Karan, and Ashwatthama scurrying around the entire place, beginning to turn everything upside down.  


'Ha! Don't be such a spoilsport, baby!' Duryodhan casually said, uncorking a bottle of beer, 'I promised them a night out at my place!'  


'Yeah, Bhanu!' Karan happily dropped in picking his own bottle, 'Join us!'

  


Bhanumati effortlessly gave him an absolute, blank stare just to quieten her best friend down. Karan pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, while, Ashwatthama kept prodding in the kitchen.  


AND THEN...

  


They thought they heard a clatter.  
  
  
  


Ashwatthama was open-mouthedly staring at the kitchen floor, and so was Bhanumati, as were Karan, Yudhishthir, and Duryodhan. None of them knew what to say to the girl whose eyes were brimming with tears at the lump of broken china, so lovingly gifted to her by her mother, when she had moved in with her career decorated as an intern in one of the top fashion-houses not just in India, but, in the entire world.  
  
  
  
  


'Bhanu, I-' Ashwatthama tried to say, while she stifled her sob. Duryodhan was still thinking if it was a good idea for Ashwatthama to open his mouth to express his condolence over the demise of the exclusive crockery.  
  


'-am sorry!' came the apology.  
  


**'SORRY?!-'** came the scream Duryodhan knew was coming, ' **"SORRY" WON'T MEND THE MESS YOU'VE MADE! ASHWATTHAMA ACHARYA!-'** ,

  
  
  


'But I didn't break it on purpose.-' he continued, while Karan cut in.  


'Taking plates doesn't mean breaking them!'  


' **DON'T YOU DARE! KARAN!-** ' Bhanumati was inconsolable. Clearly, work _was_ telling on her.  


'OH! _Come ON! Baby girl!-_ ' Duryodhan broke in with a hint of feigned nonchalance in his voice, '-I'll get you a new one, okay!'  


Bhanumati looked at him as if he was a sea-slug, or worse, a boggart standing in the form of a spider.  


.

' ** _DURYODHAN KURUVANSHI!-_** , she almost roared, '; _-THIS IS ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!_ '

  
  


' _Arrey maine kya kiya yaar?!_ _Plate hi toh hai!_ ' Duryodhan made the mistake of snorting at the end of his speech.  


' _ **YOU DON'T VALUE THINGS, DO YOU?!-'**_ , Bhanumati was seething with rage, '- _ **ALL YOU CARE FOR ARE THOSE MATCHES, AND THESE BUFFOONS BLOWING UP MY HOUSE-**_ '

  


Hell was about to break loose. Hell, _hell **did** break loose,_ after all.  


' _ **'YOUR HOUSE?!-'**_ , Duryodhan began, amidst the commentary ending after the toss, in which India lost, -' _ **BAAKI KA KIRAAYA AASMAAN SE TAPAKTA HAI KYA?!-'**_ Bhanumati was nothing short of a tornado tonight. '- _ **IF YOU CLACK HERE AT ALL ODD HOURS OF THE DAY, IT SHOULD MAKE NO DIFFERENCE IF I BRING MY FRIENDS ALONG!**_ '  


' _ **KIRAAYA DEKAR KOI EHSAAN NAHI KAR RAHE HO!'**_ the tornado retaliated mustering all the strength in her voice, ' _IT WAS YOU WHO SAID-_ ' she began, despite Karan's (read: miserably failed) attempt to control her, ending in a very unusually forceful jerk, '- _"BABY, LET'S MOVE IN TOGETHER.-"_

  


-' **GALATI HO GAYEE MERI MAA!** _I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT YOU HAVE THE ATTITUDE OF A TWO-MONTH OLD!_ '  


'- _AND I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT YOU HAVE THE TASTES BEFITTING A PIGSTY!_ '  


Yudhishthir silently watched, thanking his stars that _he_ had not asked Devika to move in, with him. Ashwatthama felt amused, while Karan desparately attempted to control the tension between them, the match that had been the reason for all this chaos, had now taken a complete backseat.  
  


'OH! STOP BEHAVING LIKE -' Karan tried to say when Duryodhan put the final straw in the quarrel.  


' **TOH MAT RAHO NAA! I CAN SURVIVE IN A PIGSTY! PROBLEM TO TUJHE HAI!'**  


' _ **WHY SHOULD I LEAVE?**_ ' Bhanumati shot back, 'I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE MOVED IN ALONE, ALL BY MYSELF!'  


'YEAH RIGHT!-' Duryodhan angrily retorted, '- _FINE THEN! I'LL LEAVE!_ '  


Karan felt a slight hint of a quiver in Bhanumati, while she stepped back, still angry. She was most definitely holding her tears back.  


' _DO WHAT YOU LIKE!_ ' she said, while running off to her room, suppressing her heavy voice, and her red eyes. Karan attempted to follow her.  


'Don't worry dude!-' Duryodhan said, holding him back, '-She is just being insufferable! Like she always is!'  


They felt like telling him that he was being a little mean to her, after all, they all knew how deeply he loved that girl. And how she loved him back.

  
  
  


If the fight ended with Bhanumati's tears and a grumpy group of four boys, the match seemed to reflect that colour in its course. Within half an hour, they could visibly feel Virat Kohli walking out to the pavilion with just one run to boast for.   
  


If Bhanumati's crockery set had broken, so would Team India's winning streak, after all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.


	2. Chapter Two

India _did_ lose the semi-final, with the widest margin ever possible. Devout fanatics were depressed, optimistic ones, hoped for a next time, and the rest dismissed the entire event to be a foregone conclusion, with the distractions Virat Kohli had.  
  
  


And that tiny apartment, in a corner of the losing side, where, a whole set of exquisite Chinese crockery had met its death at the hands of an outlandish bosom friend of the male occupant, resulting, in a fight, a few feminine tears, and a whole night of despair, was murkily quiet today. The four boys were hungover and were piled one above the other on the couch. There were beer bottles scattered all over on the floor of the drawing room, while the female occupant had already left.

  
  
  


It was Ashwatthama who spoke first, 'Bhai, are we robbed or something?'  


Karan smacked him hard. 'Saale!-' he said while Ashwatthama rubbed his head hard, reeling under the thwack, '-India haar gayi, aur humlog uss gham mein peeke tunn ho gaye!'  


'Bhaanoo-' came a soft drawl of a moan from underneath Yudhishthir, awakening him.

  


'Abey! Wake UP!' he prodded Duryodhan on his stomach.  
  


'- _I'm sorry, baby!'_ Duryodhan drawled.

  


-'Duryo! Hey man!-' came another voice.  
  


_-'Bhanu, baby!-'_  
  
  
  


Duryodhan felt like someone had just emptied a whole jug of water on his face.  
  


- _'_ **WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!-** ' he swore strongly before he felt a familiar hand, hard, right across his cheek.  
  
  


Flabbergasted, the entire squabble died away, like there was a cobra inside the room. Duryodhan's senses were reeling all over the place like a kaleideoscope. Huffing helplessly at this unexpected shake he shrugged the water off like a sparrow after having eaten and drunk its fill in a birdbath.  
  
  


'Dude! Seems like you're in slapping mode!' Yudhishthir said.  


'Dude!-' Karan mimicked, 'Shut up! Or you'll get a similar greeting!'  
  


Duryodhan was still hungover. Somehow he sleepily staggered upon his feet, and wobbled his way to Bhanumati's room.  
  
  


Turned out that was the only space in that two bedroom hall rented crevice of the universe that had any decency in it. Bhanu's room had been wiped clean of any irregularity of last night, contrary to the other corners of the flat. Usually such post-match mornings would begin with an endless nag about how boys were the creepiest creatures possibly created by the Almighty, followed by a giggle and a consequent stare, punctuated with a tinkle here and a broom there with instructions, while four hands cleared the mess away, and ending with a clean living room and Ramdin coming to take the trash conjured.  
  
  
  


This morning, the nagger - who also happened to be the instructor and owner of a pair of hands- was miserably missing. The china on the kitchen floor still cast its doomed glance on its perpetrator.  
  


' _She left?!-' Duryodhan was dazed. '- _Arrey yaar itna bhi kya gussa! I was not serious!__ ' he interjected.  
  
  
  


Suddenly they heard the doorbell ring. Duryodhan rushed out.  
  
  
  


'-Bhanu!-'  
  


'-Didi toh chali gayi!-' came the bell-ringer's answer to an already worked-up Duryodhan, '-Mere se kahaa, ki ghar saaf kar dene!'  


'-Arrey Bhaiyya! Andar toh aane do!-' Sudha said, as Duryodhan stood gaping, blocking the doorway.  
  
  


***

  
  
  


The summary of the tenth hour of the day stood thus:  
  


The four of them were drunk, and were getting their hangover off. Karan was helping Sudha -who usually was helped and instructed by Bhanumati- to clean mess up, since he had sobered to the maximum extent. Ashwatthama had started snoring again on the couch, while Yudhishthir was desperately attempting to retrieve a lost shoe. Duryodhan was unsuccessfully attempting to call his upset girlfriend but to no avail, since he heard that quintessential voice saying 'Aap jis number ko dial kar rahe hain, wo seemashetra se baahar hai. Kripaya thodi der baad dial karein'. He was constantly thinking if she had left out of anger. Calling her best friend, Subhadra was useless, because if she knew there had been a fight between them, he would be hammered to death, and if she came to know later, the result wouldn't differ. Rukmini, wouldn't be available either because she would be at work by now. Calling the office would be a nightmare for Bhanu, because, Satyavati Matsya (aka 'Whacko') would chop Bhanu to pieces. In short, he was lost, and hungover, and probably way out of his deadline to go to his office.  
  


'There is no use crying over spilt milk, Duryo-,' Karan said, '-or a bunch of broken china. Get up, and repair yourselves. Let's catch work up!'  
  
  


The boys quietly obeyed,- Ashwatthama with a shove, every now and then- and readied themselves, while Duryodhan absent-mindedly flitted his thoughts to Bhanumati's absence.  
  


***

  
  
  


It was nothing surprising. Duryodhan had awfully messed up the expense vouchers, and the entries, and Devavrat Gangeya had given him a sharp warning for suspension if he did that again, on the pretext of lecturing the other twenty-four year old messy souls who had other higher considerations than work. Karan had retained his composure and sobriety for the rest of the day, as he had messed up nothing. Both of them had tried Bhanumati's stubborn phone to get itself to talk, but this time, it had switched itself off, making it immune to any calls or messages from its potential seekers.  
  
  
  


'Maybe she'll be home sooner,-' Karan reassuringly spoke, '-maybe she is as upset as you are. Get her something nice. She is sensible enough to understand and move on.'  
  
  


Duryodhan hoped to God that Karan's words were true. And that she really hadn't taken last night seriously.  
  
. 

***

  
  
  


Duryodhan always used to return earlier that Bhanumati, and then routinely left for the club, to return homeward late at night to find Bhanumati settling the house, or clacking away at her laptop in the living room, asking him where he was. He would give her a very nonchalant reply about nagging, and being a CCTV camera, to which she would pose another argument about boys and their aversion to commitment. Finally, the night would end with dinner, and both of them would retire to their respective rooms. Duryodhan would snore in his room, while Bhanumati would finish her work, in her space, and then sleep. They would wake up to continue their usual routine of work-sleep-work-eat-club/rest-work-fight small wars-nag-work-sleep.  
  
  
  
  


He had always maintained that after Bhanumati had joined 'Vogue! India', she had literally become a machine, that ran according to the instructions Satyavati Matsya boomed every microsecond of the day. She had started running like clockwork, confining her life to regulations, and order, as opposed to him who was the Mayor of frolic. Their occasional rounds of the movies, and hangouts had vanished into oblivion. Also, his internship in Deloitte had been pacing up, burdening him even more, but he did get his space with his buddies, Gangeya was not a tyrant, like Matsya, after all.  
  
  
  
  
  


And, so right when the clock angled itself at an obtuse angle at eight, Duryodhan was back, after having excused himself from their club hangout at nine. As he entered the flat, something told him that Bhanu had been there after all. Bhanumati's presence could be detected even when it was so, obscurely present. Maybe it was a hint of her lavender perfume, or the uncanny order of everything in the residence, or some other allusion that indicated her slight presence. He entered further, hoping his earlobes would picking up the familiar sound of the her fingers in their incessant clacking mode at the laptop, or a faint swish of her pencil sketching an outfit on a paper.  
  
  
  
  


His hopes did not materialise. Something was so perceptibly amiss.  
  
  
  


'Bhanu! Baby!' he called into the space of her room. The answer: SILENCE.  
  
  


' _Surely! Why would she answer!_ ' he huffed.  
  
  
  
  


All his queries were silenced by the parchment of the note she had left on the dining table in the living room. His eyes inadvertently fell their, as if striving on their quest to find a trace of her, however minuscule.  
  
  
  


"Duryo,-' it began, ' Sorry for this. I did try to call you, but somehow, the phone remained unreachable.-' Duryodhan cursed the network, as he read on, '-Well, Whacko, preponed the trip. So, now, we have very little time for the finishing touches, for which we had the reserve of ten days. Hence to finish the remaining work, we now have two whole days in hand.- ' This sentence earned a groan, and a curse for Whacko. '-Some of the work is done. I'll have to stay back at Subhadra's place to complete the rest before we leave for Paris tomorrow.-'  


_-'We leave for Paris **tomorrow?!** -'_ Duryodhan read in disbelief, cursing even harder.  
  
  
  


The last few sentences were merely a ritual. Yet his instinct egged him to read on, '-I am sorry, love. For everything, including last night. I did overreact, but work is still telling on me. The trip shall be longer than we had expected. It is a whole forty-five days that we have to stay in Paris. I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, but, it shall pass in a jiffy, I promise, baby boy!-'  


Half of Duryodhan was already in tears, while the other half mechanically read the letter she had left.  


'I'll try to contact you every now and then, but I doubt the possibilities. Also, I've instructed Sudha to for daily housework, and your preferences for tiffin. I'll try to call whenever possible. I LOVE YOU! '  
  
  
  


So Bhanu's letter ended with the foul prospect of a separation that would last for forty-five days. Duryodhan was at a complete loss. His world seemed to have emptied itself. He was ruing the entire fight they had. If she had been insensible, he had been a bumbling buffoon himself. She left without a trace. He seemed to be evacuated of the very air that he survived on, something that was inconspicuous in its presence, yet, ached when eliminated.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He instinctively strode off to Subhadra's place.   
  
  


***

  
  
  


Duryodhan seemed to have forgotten the need for a casual formality of knocking before entering an apartment. So when he literally stormed into Subhadra's place, bereft of the smallest ceremony of knocking, everyone thought that he had gone berserk -which he had- while he promptly strode away looking for Bhanumati.   


And _there_ she was, poring over the laptop with Subhadra, surrounded in a pile of grunge papers, and varied sketches depicting their designs for the magnanimous event to be conducted in Paris, in the midst of a crowd of other people, which would amount to a total of ten. The remaining eight were gaping at him, while he marched his way to Bhanumati, regardless of their boring eyes.   


'So you couldn't drop a call?' he boomed, causing the laptop-engrossed duo to be disoriented for a while. Bhanumati was more-or-less dazed with this sudden apparition of her boyfriend. But Subhadra wasn't one to relent.   


'But she did _inform_! That should suffice!' she broke in while Bhanumati stared.   
  


'SHUT UP, SUBH! I'M TALKING TO HER!' he boomed back. By now Bhanu had recovered.   
  
  


'Subh, just stay out of this, will you?-' she spoke composedly, '-Duryo, come around, we do need to talk!'   
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  


'I'm not asking you to quit,-' Duryodhan said, considerably composed, and calmed, '-and neither am I angry at you for not informing me beforehand. But this,-' he gestured around, '-at least you can spend the night at home.'   


She tenderly cupped his stubbly cheeks in her palms, 'I know, and believe me I want to. But I can't. At least not with all this work lying around. And-' she took a long, deep breath, '-maybe, we need this.'   


'- _This_ doesn't make sense.-' Duryodhan began, '- I know there is too much going on. But we signed up for this!-' she stopped him midway.   


'-which is exactly why we need some space for ourselves. We're not used to this whole live-in thing. Are we?' she interjected calmly.   


'I'm not used to living without you!' he said, almost on the verge of tears.   


'Oh baby!-' she wrapped him in a soft cuddle, caressing his back fondly, '-Neither am I! These six months have brought us so close. It shall all pass away before you know it!'   


She thought she felt her boyfriend nod, and sob, like a two year old before his mother. Indeed in those six months of living in, she had filled every possible void in his life, tat had resulted while he stayed away from his family in Chandigarh, while he was her staple food to satiate her soul, -in the wackiest possible way- in the distance she had with her family in Kolkata. So, finally after having sobered, it was decided that Duryodhan would stay back for the rest of the night at Subhadra's place like their colleagues were.   
  
  
  


Sure enough, Bhanumati did leave for Paris, along with her colleagues, the very next day. He still did not have a clue as to how he would spend forty-five days without her, while he bid her adieu at the airport.   
  
  


Neither did she. Work would be her only option to ward the loneliness off.   
  
  


And solace _was_ needed for something she hadn't told Duryodhan about.   
  
  
  


_The trip **did** come at a good time, after all._ She contemplated while her flight took off.


	3. Chapter 3

Duryodhan’s life had more or less assumed a routine now. Somehow, without Bhanumati anchoring his life, right from waking him up to ushering him to get things on time, and keeping things pre-arranged for him, -in short, basically being a twenty-two year old mother to a twenty-four year old child- he had almost grown-up/become responsible for himself. Meaning, somehow, an impossible feat had been achieved in some thirty days.

  
  
  
  
  


*** 

He even lessened his visits to the club, unless egged on by Karan, or Ashwatthama, or Yudhishthir. Club time had been converted to curling-up-in-Bhanumati’s-room-into-a-deep-sleep time. Duryodhan seldom retired in his own room. Bhanumati did text an occasional “I love you, baby!” or “Goodnight baby! Take care!” or “I miss you!”. But, the second, he attempted to call her, she would be hurried away by a discreet voice calling her to ascertain some measurement, or Whacko’s booming voice chiding her for take a personal call on a professional trip, or Subhadra telling how unprofessional it was to mingle personal and professional lives, and what it would mean for her career that was at its nascent stage during her internship period, especially when she was in her first year.

  
  
  


She wasn’t unaffected either. Just one moment of Duryodhan’s voice would pour enough honey into the boring bland soup that was that wretched couture week in Paris. She would live through the entire day, and the mere hang of his voice would get her through two or three days. Every day, his messages kept pinging into her phone, and on top of it all, the purpose of technology in there was, _THE_ fashion show. Technology **could not be used for any other purpose**. At times, she felt like she was in a war camp, with Whacko belting orders every second, like Hilter directing his troops.

  
  


‘Thirty days!-‘ she ticked off in her mental calendar, in her two-hour snatched sleep. ‘-Fifteen days to go!’

  
  
  
  
  
  


-‘Come soon, baby!’ a deep voice muttered sleepily, in the other hemisphere, answering her loneliness.

  
  
  
  


*** 

  
  
  
  
  


Duryodhan had ditched club night again. Tonight, he had chanced upon a delicately locked volume on an impulse which rummaging through Bhanumati’s closet for some random quenching of his quest for her.

  
  
  
  


He softly caressed the volume of diaries in his hands. Bhanumati hadn’t bothered to keep the lock well-hidden, or maybe fate had willed him to read her thoughts in words that had emanated from her beautiful fingers that usually made exquisite art.

  
  
  
  
  
  


April 30th, 2015,   
  


'Bechaara,\- he read to himself, ‘-It must have been such a put-off for him. He had everything planned, and so did I. I even took leave earlier than usual. Duryo, had bought this whole pack of condoms-‘

  
  
  
  


_**‘What, even!-‘**_ he was more or less stupefied. Flabbergasted even, at this reaction. Months ago, after around two months after they had started living in, they had planned this night out , after a brief moment of a passionate first kiss two days ago. Right when she had calmed and settled herself in bed, and he had began kissing her neck, and was on the verge of taking her top off, Subhadra had bombed in, -called her, actually- asking her to come to the office immediately because Whacko had a temper tantrum, on an improper line-up for a five minute run-through. Duryodhan was in shock, after Bhanumati had profusely excused herself from that night, only to stay back in her office till night took leave, and Duryodhan had been lulled to sleep by a regretful night.

  
  
  
  
  


**‘-and he made me feel so comfortable. And , GOD BE DAMNED FOR THE WAY HE KISSES!-‘**   
  
  
  
  


Duryodhan allowed himself a blush.

  
  
  
  


‘I hope he isn’t angry. _Poor baby. **I really want to make love to him. So HARD!’**_   
  
  
  
  


He flipped on to another page, after having blushed to his heart’s content.  
  
  
  
  


May 21st, 2015.  
  
  


‘Seems like Whacko has found a way of creeping into my dreams. I’ve been having these dreams for a while now. And tonight,-‘  
  
  
  
  
  


_What dreams, baby girl?_ , he asked himself, wondering why she hadn’t told him.  
  
  
  
  
  


‘-it was so weird. It felt like I was in the middle of a warcamp .There were so many fires lit. It felt like a massive funeral march. And then, I heard myself cry, or I thought, I’d heard myself cry-‘

  
  


Duryodhan couldn’t help being perturbed.  
  
  


_Yes, of course,_ he remembered. There had been a few nights when she had been so scared, of some obscure dream. And, he had insisted on therapy for stress management, since he’d assumed it to be a result of overworking. But that prospect had been dismissed for the nightmares being only a random flitting thought. That night she was all scared and sweaty, yet cold, so all her had done was to cuddle beside her to warm her up for the rest of the night so that she could manage some rest.  
  
  
  
  
  


**-‘Duryo is the nicest guy in this WHOLE FREAKING UNIVERSE!** He got all tensed and worked up, while he’d come running from his room to mine. _**GOD, HOW DID HE GUESS?**_ SO, he shook me to my senses, as that scene of some familiar face burning dissolved, and gave me some water. Also, he babied me so much while pulling me to his chest to comfort me. GOD! I FORGOT EVERYTHING!-‘   
  
  


Duryodhan smiled to himself. _Silly girl!,_ he thought.  
  
  
  


He couldn’t help admitting that reading her diary _was_ fun. He felt like _she_ was there, **right there** , with him, smiling and chattering away.  
  
  
  
  
  


June 14th 2015,   
  
  


‘Last night’s nightmare was rather strange. It felt like those creepy past-life-regression-theory pile of rubbish that Rukmini believes in. It resembled one of those scary war-scenes again. I saw a woman, -someone astoundingly sounding like _me_ \- pleading someone not to do something. Perhaps not to go for war. ‘-  
  
  
  


_She should have talked to me_ , Duryodhan thought.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


-‘The guy wouldn’t listen, but she – _I maybe?_ \- kept pleading. And the guy was something _Duryo-ish_ … I really have no clue as to where these weird imaginations spew from. Anyway, it might be because of that superb lecture by Mrs. Bhanu Athaiya on “Period Attire” that had caught my fantasy that I dreamt of those two being royal. Yet, it was weird, with that poor woman’s sobs being incessant. God know who that might have been.-‘   
  
  
  
  
  
  


Duryodhan too wondered if he really could have denied if Bhanumati had pleaded to him that profusely.  
  
  
  


_‘Never, man!_ ’ he concluded, as he hugged the diary to his bosom, like he would have hugged her had she been closer.  
  
  
  
  
  


A hemisphere away, someone hugged him back.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


The fashion week ended, with everyone praising The Indian Couture. Beginning right from fashion czar Valencio, to Giorgio Armani, to Ralph Lauren, everyone got bowled away. Footwear emperor, Christian Louboutin had even dedicated a whole line of his exclusive upcoming fall collection, to Indian Footwear spanning centuries, not to mention the three-page article on Indian Fashion to appear in the December edition of “Vogue! America”   
  
  


‘Bechaare uske interns,-‘ she heard Subhadra mutter in sympathy when the footwear emperor walked away after having talked to Matsya.   
  


‘-Naak mein jab rassi padegi, tab samjhenge!’ her brother completed her sentence.  
  


Bhanumati heaved a sigh of relief. Their efforts had paid off, with flying colours.  
  


_And, now she could have Duryodhan all to herself…_  
  
  
  
  


_All to herself…_


	4. Chapter 4

That drama of ‘Couture Week’ had been concluded, with all its consequent accolades, and laurels stamped upon it. Maybe, the success had softened Whacko too, because she’d decided to cut her poor interns some slack, by taking them to an expensive restaurant in Paris, and allowing them a leave of two days when they would come back.  
  
  


So, one fine afternoon, Bhanumati Dutta happily hopped, skipped, and jumped into her crevice of the universe.  
  
  


‘Duryo! Duryo!-‘ she called happily.  
  
  


But, how could he be there? He was at work, unwillingly though, but, he was.  
  


Bhanumati slammed her head, ‘Main bhi naa! How can he be here at two in the afternoon?!’  
  


So, she decided, that she would arrange the evening to make up for their separation of a month and twelve days. Which also meant, that he wasn’t aware of her early arrival.  
  


Smiling, she mused to herself.  
  
  
  
  


***

 _‘GOD! Isn’t this comfortable!’_ Bhanumati breathed while slipping herself into one of Duryodhan’s tees. They were always the best. Soft, capacious, and large, they were the most comfortable apparel to don, especially after such long, and tiring flights, and when jetlag remained. They were at their peak of comfort when worn without a bra, but weren’t bad otherwise either, since, even with a bra, they provided enough space around her midriff for her skin to breathe, and for the girl herself, to be comfortable in her own skin.  
  


‘Okay!’, she looked around, ‘So, this is done!’. She felt complacent with the arrangements she had made for dinner. Duryodhan’s favourite food had been prepared, and she had planned a moderate candlelight dinner-ish environment. Only candlelights had been substituted for some dim-lights, because Duryodhan thought that candlelight dinners were girlie, and melodramatic. She scanned the living room once again, before glancing at the clock.  
  


‘I won’t stop him from attending the club, tonight.’ she said to herself.  
  
  
  


***

  
  


At eight o’clock Duryodhan Kuruvanshi unlatched the door. And…  
  
  
  
  


He gaped at his petite butterfly of a girlfriend smiling lovingly at him. **GOD! DID HE WANT TO HUG HER TIGHT!**  
  
  


She resembled the moon, while she stood in the dim light. The dark silk of her hair left loose, rested lazily on one side of her exquisite head. And…  
  
  


He _did_ notice that she wore his t-shirt, which was of course, too big for her by a fair amount of sizes. The mere of sight of his t-shirt clad nymph was so relaxing, it liberated him from the workload that Gangeya had piled on him.  
  


‘What are you staring at, baby?’ she delicately spoke, while she hugged him, ‘Horrified? To see me back?’  
  


He held her in his cuddle for what seemed like a long time. It really had been so long since he had hugged her. She delicately purred in his comfort. How that musical purr warmed him, and soothed him with simultaneous effect.  


‘God! Am I relieved to see you, baby girl!’ he heaved a sigh of relief.  
  


They slightly separated. She peeped into his deep, dark eyes earnestly blinking into her soft brown ones.  
  
  


‘Aren’t you hungry?’ she happily pulled him by his hand to take him further in to show him the tiny surprise that she had planned.  
  


‘YOU DID THIS FOR ME?!’ he softly kissed her forehead.  


‘I know it is not that good, but still,-‘ Duryodhan placed a finger on the rose petals of her lips.  


‘Just,-‘ words weren’t enough to express that moment. It was just so ineffable, and divine in its feel.  


‘Okay, so!-’ she held his hand, ‘Freshen up fast! I’m literally starving!’  


‘As you wish, Princess!’  
  
  
  


***

Duryodhan couldn’t take his eyes off her while they were having dinner, or before or after that.  


‘So, what’s on the club tonight?’ she chirped, in her usual bubbly tone.  


She hadn’t realized that she had hypotised her boyfriend. So, she slightly touched his fingers.  
  


The touch shook him out of his trance. He realized that he wasn’t dreaming of Bhanu being there, or that the softness of her breath was not an illusion, nor was that feathery touch of her fingers shaped by the words that her fingers had shaped into a beauty of incongruities in the pages of her diary.  
  


‘Are you okay?’ he felt her fingers on his forehead, a usual gesture she did while checking a possibility of a fever.  
  


‘Did you say something?’ he absent-mindedly inquired.  


‘The club.’ she said, ‘Anything special tonight?’  


‘I don’t know.’ he said. ‘Hey, you know what? Let’s watch “Supernatural” together!’  


‘Are you serious?!’ Bhanumati gaped at him.  
  


‘Yeah, love!’ he chirped. ‘Main bhi toh dekhoon, who enchants you more than me?’  
Bhanumati gulped, and then hopped, ‘Okay!’  
  
  


***

The starting sequences, showing the recaps, and the precaps began with “THEN” and “NOW” flashing with intermittent flashes of the lead actors and the creepy, strange creatures belonging to other realms of time and existence began while Duryodhan looked at her.  
  
  


He was desperately trying to keep his gaze limited to a _gaze,_ and not crossing over to an ogle. Ogling was creepy, and unspeakable, and disgusting. He was trying hard to restrain his fingers from reflecting the demeanour of his eyes.  
  
  


What he did not know was that, Bhanumati too, wasn’t concentrating on the moving sequence of the pictures, with Jensen Ackles flashing on with his snarky one-liners. Somehow, he mistook the action of her nail-biting with some phantom excitement that was related to the series. Instead, she was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Somehow she wanted to be really close to him. **Like, really, really REALLY CLOSE!**  
  


Maybe that would decrease her discomfort. Meanwhile, Duryodhan’s fingers rested on her shoulder. She had unknowingly slipped herself into a comfortable cuddle closer to him. They didn’t know why the other felt so unusually warm, and why they wanted to feel that warmth to an elevated extent. Why did they want that warmth to blaze on each others’ skins.  
  
  
  


**BARE SKINS…**

  
  
  


‘Bhanu,-‘ Duryodhan whispered very close to her. She felt something twitch inside her very uncomfortably, while her heartbeats escalated.  
  
  
  


_Why on earth is he so freaking hot?,_ she thought.  
  
  


She turned her sight on him, regardless of Dean lynching a demon away. Her soft fingers preferred to rest themselves on his cheeks. She became conscious of her inconspicuous bra strap peeping out of the t-shirt that she had worn. Yet she did not want to hide it away.  
  
  


‘May I kiss you?’ he softly whispered while the distances between their faces compressed themselves, while Crowley began his cocky commentary.  


‘Do you want to?’ she purred.  


‘Would you want me to?’ he asked her.  
  
_**He is so DUMB!,**_ she clenched her fist, hoping he would stop talking and kiss her.  
  


**‘Duryo!’** she spoke, her brown eyes, crystal clear with what they wanted.  
  


Duryodhan drew a long, sharp, breath, ‘I just don’t want to do anything without your consent.’  
  


‘You won’t. It is so unbecoming of my baby!’ she mischievously smiled. That glint in her eyes was just so phenomenal. Even Aphrodite would covet such a gaze to elevate her divinity. Dean slammed another demon.  
  
  


Their breaths enmeshed themselves, as his arms took her slender waist in a tanned girdle. Bhanumati’s fingers began tracing their way on the flannel covering the treasured plane of his chest. His face came even closer to hers, while he stopped within an eon from her mouth, as if waiting for her to close the gap.  
  
  


And she did…  
  


The kiss began very softly, with Duryodhan being overly cautious with her, as if she was especially breakable. They preferred to feel the muffled throbs of each others’ bodies, within the flannels of their t-shirts. Yet, seemingly Bhanumati wanted to feel a little more of her boyfriend. Suddenly, as if on an impulse, Duryodhan jerked himself back. 

**‘WHAT?!’** she suddenly blurted, while her heart almost pounded out of her mouth. **‘WHAT HAPPENED, DURYO?!’**  
  


‘Just-‘ he panted, ‘Just a second-‘  


‘But-‘ she breathed.  
  


‘Just wait-‘ he rushed inside in a split second. Bhanumati open-mouthedly gaped at him.  
  


He came back within seconds.  


‘Still horny enough for me?’ he smiled.  
  


‘Duryo,-‘ she didn’t have the time to finish his name. His lips didn’t allow her to.  
  
  


This time, they kissed each other much more reverently than they had previously. Duryodhan softly slid his fingers to the loose knot she had tied on the t-shirt at her waist. Her arms had enclosed his strong frame closer to her petite form.  


He began pushing her to the side of the couch, with considerable pressure. She began moaning into his mouth. Her musical moans aggravated their desire, as she felt his lips cross over to her chin, and his fingers surreptitiously slipped into her (rather his) t-shirt. But, Bhanumati had beaten him to the race, while she passionately flung his t-shirt off. His ardour incredibly increased, while she slightly pulled herself back.  


‘So, mahine bhar ki kasar poori kar lein? Whacko nearly killed me when she snatched you away from me!’ he cooed, tucking a tress behind her ear.  


Her lips naughtily curled themselves in a corner of her beautiful mouth. Her lips didn’t keep themselves free for long.  


Neither did his.  
  


He began caressing her neck with his lips. His hands busied themselves with the hem at the lower end of her t-shirt. She sighed when her skin breathed freely, bereft of the flannel covering it. Her fingers lost themselves in the dark wilderness of his hair, wearing them in ringlets around her fingers.  


She loosened herself to kiss his chest, while he engrossed his fingers with the quest of freeing her of the elastic above her midriff. So he slowly slid the straps off her shoulders.  
  


‘You are so beautiful!’ he whispered, before she felt his fingers unclip her bra.  
  


‘And you’re _so hot!_ ’ she whispered back, while busying herself with the strings of his pajamas.  
  


‘Hmmm…’ he winked before moving southward to kiss the brown discs of her breasts. She frantically felt the perfect six-creased hard folds of his abdomen. Her nails had already left their signatures on the nape of his neck.  
  


.Her back basked itself in the soft touch of his tanned fingers, after they had freed her of her tiny shorts, then they trailed down to the satin at her groin. He too felt the remnant of his decency slip off.  
  


‘So this was why you left!’ she purred.  
  
  


GOD! HE REMEMBERED WEARING A CONDOM!, her thought bubble appeared.  
  


‘I love you!’ he whispered before he slipped himself into her.  
  
  


_‘Duryo-!’ she moaned weakly when she felt him sliding into her quivering orifice. Five of his fingers caressed her bare thigh, while another five busied themselves with her back. She yanked him even closer by his hair, feeling every line of his body impressing itself upon her soft form. His heart beat inside her chest. His lungs chanted her name with every constriction they had. She tightly crossed her legs around his waist, tightening herself with every passing second, as if scared to miss even the minutest of the impulses running underneath his skin._  
  
  
  


She felt a slight pain tingling within the softest part of her. She threw her head back in ecstasy while she unconsciously bit her lip, which seemingly prompted him to kiss her thoroughly once again.  
  


‘I love you so much!’ she murmured when he released himself, kissing her half- closed eyelids.  
  


‘Silly girl!’ he smiled while she snuggled into his chest. The lack of space on the couch, just made all of this, so much more sensual.  
  


Their bare bodies seemed to breathe each other in through their interspersed pores, as she peacefully fell asleep in his strong arms.  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Bhanumati woke up the next morning to find herself covered with the sheet, she usually used to cover herself with at night. Duryodhan was nowhere to be found. She sleepily rubbed her eyes.  
  


‘So typical!’ she huffed. Post-intimacy awkwardness was always typical in guys, she had learnt from Rukmini, especially on one’s maiden venture.  


Suddenly, while she wrapped the sheet around herself, Duryodhan came in through the door.  


‘Good morning lazybones!’ he happily quipped, placing a packet on the dining table.  


Bhanumati wondered if _she_ was the one with the awkwardness. Duryodhan wasn’t showing any queer signs.  


‘I got the bread, and the cheese for breakfast.’ He said.  
  
  


‘Ummm… What?!’ she mumbled, half asleep, and half dazed.  
  
  


Duryodhan suddenly became a little grave.  
  
  


‘Thinking about last night?’ he asked her, softly caressing her head.  


‘Maybe?’ a very confused answer came.  


‘Hmmmm…’ he cooed. His intuition about her queasiness was seemingly right.  


‘Look Bhanu,-‘ he cleared his throat. He didn’t really have an answer planned for handling post-intimacy strangeness. If she had lost her virginity, it was the first time for him as well.  
  


Bhanumati was still in a daze.  
  
  


‘-we are adults-‘ _Of course, we are,_ someone said inside his head. Bhanumati wondered how plausible the statement was at that moment.  
  
  


‘-and we are in love-‘ _That_ seemed more appropriate. ‘And we live together. So if-‘ he gulped, ‘-we do what we did last night, without forcing one amongst us. It should not feel weird.’  
  
  


Bhanu was suppressing a very amused smile. _He would not make a very good diplomat,_ she thought.  
  
  


‘When did you switch the T.V. off?’ she asked, trying hard not to laugh.  


‘ After you fell asleep.’  
  


‘Mmmmm….’ She cooed before cosying herself in his arms again.  
  
  
  


‘You know,-‘ she sleepily purred, caressing his chest, ‘-Whacko has given us a leave of two days.’  
  


‘That’s nice.’ Duryodhan kept playing with her hair.  
  


‘I think you should move in to my room.’ A very nonchalant statement came through a soft pressure of his lips through her hair.  
  
  


‘Okay,-’ Bhanumati straightened herself, ‘-and we have to decide who does what for the next month.’  


‘Sure-‘ he replied. ‘-but first, shouldn’t you freshen up?’  


‘Hmmm….’ She clutched the sheet to her bosom while she rose. Duryodhan smilingly watched her leave.  
  


_**GOD, how madly I love her!,**_ he mused.  
  
  


Maybe she sensed something. She softly turned, flew to him with the lightest of her stride, and tenderly kissed him on his cheek.  
  


‘I love you too.’ She cooed, before leaving to freshen herself up.  
  
  
  
They had a long life together ahead, and it would be bereft of all those nightmares. Fights would happen, of course, but they would just add to the love.


End file.
